To his utter confusion, Potter's angry visage turned away from him and focused on Jodfries. "Professor Snape is innocent of the crime you just accused him of. Stop that whinging right now and act your age!"
Potter's furious demand clearly shocked Jodfries into silence.
"That's better. You're lucky Professor Snape caught you. Had it been Professor Weasley or the Headmistress, you'd be wishing you'd been expelled about now." Visibly calming himself, Potter turned back to face Severus. "Actually, I was coming to ask a favour of you that might work out to both our advantages."
"What favour?" Severus demanded. He'd known Potter's support was too good to be true. Potter had lulled him into a false sense of security and was no doubt now about to humiliate him before the crowd of students.
"I promised to help Professor Longbottom harvest his pomegranates later this afternoon. However, I had to give Phillips and Montgomery detention this morning. Can I send them down to you to sit detention with Jodfries here?" Potter's eyes locked with Severus' own, silently urging his compliance.
Braced for an embarrassing demand, Severus could barely understand why Potter was making such a simple request with such intensity. Why would Potter place significance on this? One or three, it hardly mattered how many students were in the room during detention. But then, Severus realized that it did make a difference. It would prevent Saturday's accusation from being repeated.
Impressed by the logic, Severus gave a tight nod. "Very well. Send them down after supper ends."
"Thank you." Potter looked back at Jodfries. "I don't want to hear another word about this nonsense. If you don't want detention, then stop acting like an idiot. Get out of here before I double whatever Professor Snape gave you." The pasty-faced boy nodded and quickly hurried down the still crowded hall. Potter stared at the remaining audience and said, "Fourth period bell sounded three minutes ago. Unless all of you want to join Jodfries in detention, I suggest you get where you need to be."
A heartbeat later, they were alone in the hall.
Severus stared at Potter. He knew a thank you was called for, but his head was still swirling from young Jodfries' near-hysterical response to his assigning detention. After a moment, he heard himself ask, "How can I maintain discipline if I can't administer detention?"
Horrified that he'd spoken the thought aloud, Severus avoided Potter's gaze, staring somewhere past Potter's left temple.
"You can administer detention. In fact, it would probably be a good idea if you don't alter your habits. Only, perhaps you shouldn't have any solitary detentions for a while?" Potter tentatively suggested.
"Are you suggesting that I punish the innocent as well as the guilty?" Severus snapped, meeting Potter's eyes again to glare at him.
An almost playful light entered Potter's gaze as he replied, "It wouldn't be the first time, would it?"
Severus opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but . . . the words hadn't exactly been voiced as a complaint. They were teasing, without malice, spoken with the same familiarity Potter used when he joked with the Weasleys. As there was also a certain degree of truth to the claim, Severus swallowed his denial and cautiously allowed, "No, we both know it wouldn't."
There were days in Potter's youth when he'd given him detention for breathing, simply because Potter resembled his father.
"What's the harm then in continuing a tried and true tradition, at least until we get this situation sorted out?" Potter asked.
"I'm sure the dunderheads could think of a reason or two," Severus said.
"When has that ever bothered you?" Potter challenged with a grin. "What time did you give Jodfries detention?"
"After seventh period."
"I'll send Montgomery and Phillips down at three. Thanks for that."
"We both know that the pomegranates don't have to be harvested this afternoon," Severus pointed out.
"Maybe I just prefer to make you the bad guy rather than give them detention myself."
"And you think that sending them down to me is going to make you their hero?" Severus couldn't keep from asking.
Potter chuckled. "You always did say I wasn't very bright. See you at dinner, Professor."
As he watched Potter turn and walk down the hall to the staircase, an unnatural warmth fluttered through insides that were accustomed to being held tight as stone in self-defence. Shaking off the reaction, Severus headed up to the infirmary to deliver the potions he'd made last night.
*~*~*
A week later, Severus stood at the blackboard finishing up the instructions for his third year Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw double Potions class. His back was to the classroom and he could hear the low conversations of the students who had arrived at his class early. The socializing noise was never as loud in his Potions lab as it was in other classrooms he'd observed, so he usually allowed it to continue until the bulk of the class arrived.
Once he'd completed the instructions, he returned to his seat and resumed grading the tests from his earlier fifth year class. Severus had just turned to the second paper in the pile when he noticed an unnatural hush fall over the room around him.
Wondering what the fools had gotten up to now, Severus raised his head, only to have the breath catch in his chest as his gaze met Carl Westfield's nervous blue eyes.
The boy who'd accused him of molesting him stopped dead in his tracks. Even from the front of the room, Severus could see Westfield's Adam's apple jump as he gulped.
The dark-skinned boy standing at Westfield's side, his friend, Joseph Mangra, placed his hand on Westfield's back. Westfield seemed to take a deep breath before continuing into the room.
Westfield had been gone from class a week now. This was his first day back.
Severus wasn't really surprised to find that he was as anxious as his student at the present moment. He'd never been in this type of awkward situation before and hadn't a clue how to treat the boy. His normal menacing attitude didn't seem appropriate in light of what young Westfield had suffered.
Severus watched Westfield follow Mangra to their workbench. As Westfield put down his schoolbag, normal conversation started up again, perhaps with a more excited edge.
Severus had returned his own attention to the tests before him when the class fell silent yet again. Glancing up, he was surprised to see the light glinting off Westfield's blond curls as he strode purposefully up to his professor's desk.
His heart inexplicably pounding against the wall of his chest, Severus managed a dry swallow and met Westfield's determined blue gaze.
"Professor Snape?" Westfield tentatively began.
"Yes, Mr. Westfield?" Severus replied in what he hoped was a normal, un-menacing tone.
"I, er . . . would like to apologize, sir," Westfield said.
"What?" Severus tried very hard not to gape at the boy.
His voice level and steady, carrying through the entire lab in the room's abrupt, dead silence, Westfield continued with, "I accused you of a terrible crime that you didn't commit. I – I'm sorry."
Severus could never remember being stunned speechless by a student before, at least not pleasantly so. He could almost feel the shock Westfield's peers were experiencing. Severus could sense every eye in the room upon him as he cleared his throat and searched for an appropriate response. After a moment, he settled on, "You can hardly be held responsible for anything that happened, Mr. Westfield. You don't owe me an apology."
"I . . . still feel bad about . . . accusing you, sir," Westfield said.
Severus had never expected this. He could see how hard it was for the boy to stand there and speak to him. Recalling what he'd viewed in Potter's pensieve more than a week ago, Severus could feel the same memories moving through Westfield. He could see how Westfield was trembling.
Taking a deep breath, Severus quietly said, "We were both deceived, Mr. Westfield."
Westfield's curly head nodded and his eyes dropped uncomfortably.
Severus found himself impulsively saying, "Our foe underestimated your courage. Rarely have I seen anyone your age conduct himself with such honour and integrity. I award fifty house points to Hufflepuff for your bravery and resilience."
The entire room seemed to gasp as one as their parsimonious and infamously despotic Potions teacher awarded more points in a second than the head of Slytherin usually gave out to the other houses in an entire year.
Severus knew his action wasn't exactly appropriate. He couldn't make up for the horrors Westfield had endured by the superficial gift of house points, but he didn't know what else to do to convey his respect for the boy's courage. He wouldn't have been surprised or resentful if Westfield had spent the remainder of his time at Hogwarts sending his homework into class through his friends and taking Potions through private tutoring as he'd been doing the last week. For the boy to walk so boldly into Severus' class and apologize for his mistake a mere ten days after he'd been brainwashed to believe that his teacher had molested him took a degree of courage worthy of the Boy Who Lived.
Severus could see he'd shocked Westfield. The anxiety was temporarily gone from his eyes and his jaw hung open. "I, er . . . thank you, Professor."
Severus nodded and softly suggested, "Perhaps you should take your seat now."
With a blank nod, Westfield returned to his workbench.
Doing his best to ignore his students' stupefied faces, Severus rose to begin his lesson.
*~*~*
"Professor Snape didn't come to dinner again tonight," Harry commented as he finished off the last of his chocolate cake. Even though most of the staff were in their regular seats and the evening meal had been as sumptuous as ever, without Ron and Snape there, the teachers' table felt strangely empty.
Hermione looked up from the papers she was grading beside her custard tart. "Can you blame him?"
"It's not like him to miss this many meals in a row," Harry said.
"Well, with everything that's happened . . . ." Hermione began.
"That's not why he's missing," Neville offered from Harry's other side.
"Oh?" Harry turned to look at Neville. Neville hadn't changed that much from their schooldays. He was still quiet, kind, and slightly timid. He'd lost most of his schoolboy chubbiness, but he still had those deep, earnest blue eyes that made him look extremely young and innocent. "What do you mean?"
Neville smiled. "I heard the students talking in seventh period today. Apparently, Adam Viers managed to cause a problem in the third period Potions class that made my mistakes look insignificant."
Harry shuddered at the thought. From an adult, teacher's perspective, he knew that they were all lucky to have made it out of Potions class alive with Neville in the same room. He couldn't imagine anything that would make Neville's exploding cauldrons seem insignificant. At least, nothing his classmates and the dungeons would have survived.
He and Hermione exchanged a worried glance before Harry asked Neville as innocently as possible, "What sort of problem?"
Neville shrugged. "Something to do with bugs, I think."
"Bugs?" Harry repeated.
Beside him, Hermione stage-whispered, "Professor Snape uses all kinds of poisonous insects in his ingredients."
She'd know that, of course. He and Neville were lucky to remember what a cauldron looked like, much less what type of ingredients went into it.
"We'd have heard if half the sixth year class were poisoned, bit, or hospitalised, wouldn't we?" Harry asked.
"One would think," Hermione answered. Her gaze strayed out over the crowded hall. "It looks like everyone's here. Just what happened, Neville?"
Neville shrugged. "Munson stopped talking when he realized I was listening. All I heard was that the Potions lab was a war zone. They said that Snape dismissed his third period class forty minutes early and cancelled all other Potions classes for the day."
"He didn't make the class stay to help him clean up?" Hermione questioned.
"No, and he always used to make us stay, so I'm thinking that whatever happened was really bad," Neville replied.
Thinking the same thing, Harry lowered his fork to his plate. "I'll go check on Snape. Make sure he and the rooms are all right."
Harry added the part about the rooms because Neville was giving him a strange look.
"If carpet beetles were involved, they could have eaten the flesh off his bones by now," Neville said, not sounding particularly broken up by the possibility.
Hermione's predictably sharp, "Neville! That's a horrible thing to say," was ringing through Harry's ears as he rose to his feet. Stifling a grin, he left the hapless Neville stammering and headed out of the Great Hall.
Better you than me, mate, Harry thought as he made good his escape. He'd been on the receiving end of Hermione's tirades often enough to do almost anything to avoid them.
The corridors were still crowded with scores of students bustling about, so it took him nearly fifteen minutes to reach the dungeon stairs amidst all the greetings and questions that were a normal part of his traversing Hogwarts' halls. Sometimes when he was in a hurry, he understood why Snape was so obnoxious to their students. No one in their right mind detained Professor Snape when he was passing through the halls. Even the other teachers gave him a wide berth.
It felt like forever since he'd last had cause to visit the dungeons, but even after more than nine years absence, Harry's feet remembered the way. After the scores of detentions he'd served down here, it would be strange if they hadn't, he wryly acknowledged.
Unsurprisingly, he passed few students loitering in the halls of Snape's domain. What few Slytherins he did encounter gave him a courteous hello and went about their business.
Finally, Harry reached the arched doorway of the Potions classroom. The thick oak door was closed, but unwarded, which told him that Snape was probably still inside.
